Paper Chains
by hills
Summary: "The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion." A sugar-filled exploration of the events that might have led to this particular moment. HBP missing moment. Don't forget to brush your teeth after!


"That does it! Out!" cried Molly Weasley, the knife she held in her hands pointing towards the kitchen door. "I've had enough of your shenanigans!" she continued, in a voice that was trying its best to be stern. Her tone was belied, however, by the slight quirking of the lips she'd been unable to suppress.

It was Christmas Eve, and Molly had begun preparations for the sprawling dinner she had planned for her family and their guests. She had enlisted the help of the twins, Ron, Harry and Ginny in a vain hope that their help would make the preparations faster.

But she should have known her hopes were but a pipe dream. After a fairly rough beginning to the holidays, where she'd had to squish as many people as possible in each room to accommodate all the visitors, - resulting in the grim prospect of Ginny sharing a room with Fleur- everyone had settled into having a good time. Perhaps as a result of the uncertainties of the war, or the fact that the whole family hadn't had a proper Christmas at the Burrow in a while, holiday cheer abounded. The young people, led by the twins and Ginny, whom Molly thought was taking turns being their apprentice and their leader, were sowing as much chaos as possible in the small confines of the Burrow. This had led to an atmosphere of almost giddy joy in the younger occupants of the Burrow.

Molly had to admit that while she didn't necessarily appreciate the resulting antics, she was enjoying having the Burrow being filled to the brim, and spilling with mischief and laughter once again. But things had come to a head that faithful afternoon in her kitchen. Nothing was going to plan, and her "helpers" had turned out to be the biggest hindrance to the progress of her plans.

Ginny, who was supposed to be cutting up a little mountain of carrots and green beans had spent more time pantomiming incomprehensible-to-Molly-things, and muttering asides that kept sending Harry, once more on potato peeling duty, into laughing fits. Simultaneously, she also seemed to be helping the twins tease Ron into an apoplectic fit about someone Molly thought she might have heard them call Lav Lav. A state of true chaos was about to be reached and no real work was getting done. And Molly had finally had enough.

"I think I've had more than enough of your help in the kitchen" she went on, "why don't you go and decorate the living room for tonight instead," she suggested. Before she could even finish speaking, her rascals had abandoned their work and jocularly made their way out the door, Ginny assuring her the decoration will be done.

When they got to the living room, Ginny wanted to go immediately up to the attic to get the decorations. Molly Weasley was a lover of all the chintz and sparkle associated with the holidays and had passed on that love to her daughter. There was nothing Ginny liked more than decorating the house for the holidays, and then taking in that festive atmosphere. Needless to say, she was brimming with excitement at the thought of finishing the decorations, the tree having been decorated the night before. Her brothers, however, could easily recognize the glint of excitement in her eyes and knew to steer clear of her.

"Oh no, you're not dragging us down that path," started Fred, exaggeratedly backing away with a feigned look of horror on his face.

"Not today," continued George, who had predictably taken up his brother's cues and was running with it. "We'd rather go throw some gnomes. In fact, we're going to go do that now." And matching actions to words, they both ran out.

Giggling at their antics, Ginny turned to Ron and Harry. "Well?" she asked in an affected voice reminiscent of her mother when she was trying to guilt them into something. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Before Ron could begin his own denials, Harry shrugged in response. "Sure, why not? I'm not that into gnomes personally".

Ron's spluttering interrupted Ginny's answering laugh. "Mate, you don't understand, she's going to kidnap you and force you to make hundreds of paper chains all afternoon! She's mental that one!"

Behind him, Ginny was vigorously shaking her head. "I promise not to kidnap you, and to let you go anytime you get tired, Harry!"

Harry stood, torn between the two. On the one hand, he didn't want Ron to figure out that he, Harry, would rather spend any moment of any day with Ginny doing anything at all, than away from her. On the other hand, he couldn't let a chance to spend time with Ginny, to talk to her about anything and everything, to have a legitimate reason to look at her, to just bask in her presence… he couldn't let such a chance pass him by.

"It's okay, see? She's promised to treat me well" Harry responded in a fake serious tone.

"It's your funeral mate," Ron replied as he walked out, making a rude gesture to Ginny, who wasblowing him a victory raspberry.

As Ginny lead the way up to the attic, she tried to suppress a weird frisson of pleasure at the thought that Harry had chosen her over Ron.

"This is the second time he's sided with you over Ron," that annoyingly persistent internal voice whispered excitedly. "Remember, the first time was when-" but Ginny ruthlessly shut THAT train of thought down immediately.

"Oh no, my girl" she muttered to herself. "We are not going to think about that unfortunate occasion. And when did we start counting things that Harry has done?"

"When did we stop?" the little voice in her head replied, but Ginny didn't hear it; she had perfected the art of ignoring the voice of that little part of her that she was beginning to realize, might always love Harry.

"Besides," she continued her internal rant, "the choice was between you and garden gnomes, that's not the most flattering comparison, my girl." And then just to drive the point home and kill the voice in her head once and for all, hopefully: "Besides, maybe he has the good taste to love making paper chains, not everyone is as uncultured as my brothers!" Though somehow, Ginny doubted that was the case.

Harry had found himself in the awkward position of following behind Ginny and doing his possible best not to stare at places his eyes kept being unavoidably drawn to. It was imperative he not get caught staring, and he was sure that would happen because Ginny, who had grown up among brothers, would be quick to catch that sort of thing. It wasn't until they got to the second landing that he realized he could fill the time with talking, instead of making up things to distract himself.

"Doesn't the ghoul ever disturb the things you store up there?" he asked, as they took the next turn.

"Gerald?" Ginny asked quizzically, turning back to look at him. "Nah. I actually think he takes great pride in guarding the things up there. He's a true gentleman, you know."

"You call the ghoul Gerald?" Harry was amused. It would be just like Ginny to give the ghoul a name, and trust her to come up with the most incongruous one too.

Ginny smirked at him. "That's his name!"

"Uh huh," Harry smirked back, "Was it the name his parents gave him, then?"

"Not unless I'm his mother!" giggled Ginny. "I named him when I was 7 years old. When Bill and Charlie had both left for Hogwarts and I would get tired of fighting the boys, I would go up there and hide with him," she continued wistfully. "He was a pretty good listener too."

Harry felt his heart melt at the thought of a cute little Ginny making friends with the ghoul in the attic and giving him a predictably ridiculous name. It seemed as if Ginny had been, well... Ginny... for a very long time, and just thinking about it made him choke up for reasons best left unexamined.

"So how come Ron doesn't use his name?" Harry asked, clearing his throat.

"Well, they're not exactly friends, are they?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling at him. "You see, I told Gerald so many stories about what they were doing to me as a kid, he's never really warmed up to them. He's very protective like that".

After picking up the supplies and other decorations from the attic, Harry and Ginny finally made their way downstairs. They had settled into relaxed casual conversation, the reminiscing over Ginny's childhood having gotten them over their earlier worries and preoccupations.

As he sat down to begin cutting the various papers of different colors and lengths Ginny had assigned him to cut, Harry couldn't help the feeling of contentment that gradually stole over him. His life, the... events that always seemed to happen around him, and the company he kept, especially right now...what with Ron snogging Lavender all over the place while making snide asides about Hermione, and Hermione getting shriller and tenser in her unhappiness with Ron, just didn't encourage relaxation. As such, Harry had always unconsciously carried a lot of tension within him. In fact, Harry hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying around in him until he felt it gradually melt away in Ginny's undemanding presence.

Harry idly wondered how someone who was causing him so much internal turmoil could also be such a port of calm in the storm. Shouldn't the two cancel each other out? And yet somehow…

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny had assembled the cuttings and already began some kind of complicated folding ritual that he doubted he could achieve given a million years.

"Well, it depends." Harry smiled at her, passing her more of his cuttings. "My thoughts just took a sharp left turn. At first, I was thinking how nice and relaxing it is to just sit here and cut up stuff." He wondered how she would react if he mentioned the fact that it was her presence, and not his endeavors, that was making him happy.

"But now I'm thinking I could never do these paper chain things. It looks so… complicated."

Ginny smiled. "It is nice to just sit down and relax, right? This is why I love Christmas so much." Then, going back to her folding: "We're going to be making different kinds of paper chains, you know. It'll give our design more depth and texture."

Harry watched her do something even more complicated with her fingers.

"You don't have to do the complicated ones," she continued. "I can show you some pretty simple ones."

Harry breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, which made Ginny laugh, then he went back to watching her handiwork. He found the deftness of her movements oddly hypnotic. And those fingers…

"I can also teach you how to make the complicated ones if you want," Ginny offered, her eyes twinkling softly at him.

Harry gave her a wide-eyed stare and tried to ignore what her twinkling eyes were doing to his insides as he responded. "Oh, no thanks, I think I'll pass. I just don't think my fingers can do what your fingers are doing. Yours are so delicate." Harry suddenly caught himself. Had he really spoken that out loud? Harry had a sinking feeling that he had.

After a loaded pause, Ginny stopped her folding to stare at her hands quizzically. Harry hoped she wouldn't look at him and see his heated face. "Are they really? I hadn't realized."

"Yeah, though I've seen what they can do with a quaffle, so maybe delicate isn't exactly the right word for it." Nice save, Harry thought to himself as Ginny's laughter tinkled over him. Her laughter must have loosened his lips too because Harry watched helplessly as words continued to fall out of his mouth. "Slender and long is more like it." Oh Merlin, please _please_ shut up! Harry begged himself.

But Ginny was twinkling at him. "Thanks, Harry, I'll take that as a compliment. Though I'm not going to let you ignore the fact that you have slender extra-long fingers," she said with a smirk, "to go along with the rest of you."

Why was it suddenly so hot in here? Harry wondered to himself. He tried not to think too deeply on Ginny's words and tried not to let their effect on him show. Thankfully, he was saved by the uproarious screams of the twins who came in then, carrying Ron on their shoulders, victory-style. Apparently, Ron had broken the record for the longest distance ever travelled by a gnome, and Harry spent the next few minutes watching Ginny, who had abandoned her work, celebrating the historic occasion with her brothers.

"Being a beanpole is finally working out for you Ron!"

Ginny had been having a very happy day. Fleur and Bill had gone on an early morning excursion, and as a result, Ginny had completely missed seeing Fleur that morning. She'd instead had a great morning with Fred and George- her favorite brothers- Ron and Harry; she'd been excused from kitchen duties- which were always a downer- and finally, she'd been tasked with her favorite household activity ever, Christmas decorating!

The extra fluffy icing on top of her delicious chocolate cake of a day, of course, was having an especially Harry-filled day. He'd sat by her during breakfast, where they'd had a thoroughly satisfying conversation with Ron about quidditch tactics. They'd had a thoroughly entertaining conversation in the kitchen talking about everything and nothing, and Ginny thought she'd never get over the sound of Harry's laughter. He had such joy in him, in the rare moments he forgot to be worried. He'd then chosen to help her with the decorations instead of playing with the boys, and then he'd gone and complimented her fingers of all things, if you please!

It seemed as if just when she'd gotten into the groove of a comfortable friendship with Harry, he'd gone and switched it up on her again. She wasn't sure what was going on, but true to her promise to herself three years ago, she wasn't going to dwell on it, overthink it, or read any more meaning into anything Harry did than was required.

Ginny stopped short. Had she really told Harry that his fingers were long? To fit the rest of him? That could so easily be read as flirting! What had she been thinking?

Ginny didn't know whether to be mortified or to laugh. She decided to go with the later because really, he'd asked for it. Say nice things to Ginny Weasley, and you get flirted at! Merlin, that sounded so bad! Ginny giggled to herself.

"Err, don't you think we've done enough?" asked Harry, who had been making the simple paper chains she had taught him.

"You think?" Ginny wondered out loud as she eyeballed the little mountain of paper chains they'd created. "No, I think we need to make some more. The goal is to have the house looking as festive as possible. I want anyone who enters this place to have absolutely no doubt that a party is in progress!" she exclaimed.

Harry was beginning to see what Ron and the twins had been saying about Ginny's enthusiasm for decorating. Any impartial observer could see that they had already created more than enough paper chains. If they continued any longer, they were going to rival Madam Puddifoot's in excessiveness of decorations. But Ginny looked so happy contemplating her handiwork that Harry couldn't begrudge her anything.

Picking up a green cutout to start yet another paper chain, Harry wondered if Ginny was the kind of girl who would love going to Madam Puddifoot's. Before today, Harry would have responded with a resounding "no!" if he's been asked that question, but now he wasn't so sure…

And Harry had to admit wryly to himself that he wouldn't even mind going to Madam Puddifoot's if it meant he could snog Ginny to his heart's content. He imagined they'd have a good time laughing at the decorations and at the other couples before getting to the supremely important business of snogging. Because whatever else she might be, Ginny was not a mushy sort of girl _at all,_ Harry knew.

Harry idly wondered what she'd taste like, after having all the sweet treats Madam Puddifoot's served … He suddenly shook himself from his fanciful thoughts. No use going down _that_ road with Ginny in the room.

Once they had made enough paper chains to satisfy Ginny, she called a halt to the proceedings. "Aren't they just lovely?" she sighed contentedly as she contemplated the load in front of them.

It was clear she didn't require a response, she was just basking in her own accomplishments. Harry thought she was too cute for words.

"After we hang these, the room will be complete. Just in time too, as I think I hear Mum finishing up in the kitchen!" Ginny stood up quickly and began to delicately gather up the chains.

"Yeah, everything except the star," responded Harry, as he too stood up to help her, referring to the tree they had decorated the night before; it was missing its star because no one had been able to find it.

"Oh, that's right!" Ginny exclaimed. "I can't believe I'd almost forgotten. I'd better ask the boys to help me find something to replace it with, let them make themselves useful." Harry extended his hands so that she dropped her cranes into them and went outside to inform the boys of their assigned task. She had to scream at the top of her lungs so she could be overheard.

"Honestly," she muttered as she made her way back in a moment later, "you'd think they'd be tired by now. They've been horsing about for hours!"

Harry laughed. "Well, all that food they scarfed down this morning has to go somewhere."

"True enough." Ginny shook her head in amusement as she picked up one end of the first chain and directed Harry to the opposite end of the room so that the hanging could commence.

"Ouch!" Ginny exclaimed. She had just been stretching up to hang the last chain when she was cut by the sharp corner of her masterpiece. True to the adage that the smallest cuts bleed the most, her hand began to bleed profusely.

Harry grabbed a thankfully conveniently-placed clean rag, and hurried over to help her. He took hold of her left hand and gently cleaned the blood off.

"Was it a papercut?" His concern would have to excuse the obviousness of his question.

Ginny nodded.

"Where is it?"

Ginny frowned and bent down to look for the location of the cut. "I can't see it, but I know it's this finger for sure." She pointed to her index finger. "It's not a big deal, just a stupid little cut. The kind that hurts more than it ought to, especially since you can barely see it." She sounded a little cross.

Harry wished he could kiss away the little frown that had developed between her eyes... "Here let me look," he muttered as he brought her index finger higher into his line of sight. "Oh, I think I see it, little bugger," he continued. And then to his horror, he watched himself, as if from above, as he bent down and gave the finger a little kiss!

The world stood still. Everything, including his very heart, came to a screeching halt. Had he really just kissed the pain away on Ginny's finger? What had possessed him? Had he lost his mind? Was the monster in his chest becoming sentient and taking over his body? When would the ground beneath him open up and save him from this miserable existence?

Hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt, Harry chanced a look at Ginny. She was looking at him so wide-eyed, her hypnotic eyes, pools of the richest chocolate, were threatening to take over her face.

Before he could even begin to figure out how to get them out of this awkward situation, he had created, she gently pulled her finger out of his grip. "Erm, I guess I better go and fix this before it starts bleeding again." But instead of going to meet her mother in the kitchen for a quick fix, she slowly made her way upstairs.

Stuck in the position she had left him in, Harry didn't catch the questioning backward glance she threw him on her way out. _Did that really just happen, or am I losing my mind?_

By the time she would make her way downstairs again, she would have turned that moment upside down on its head and examined it from every angle before deciding to pretend it hadn't happened. What else does one do with something one doesn't understand and isn't ready to deal with?

But back to the present moment, we go back to Harry, who hasn't moved a muscle since we left him. He will soon be interrupted by the raucous laughter of Ron and the twins who have found an ingenious solution for their dilemma. They had caught a gnome, stunned it, painted it pink, and stuffed it in a tutu they found who knows where. After shaking himself of his self-imposed stupor, Harry would soon join them in their conspiracy to plant it at the top of the tree without anyone being the wiser.

He will take the memory of that mortifying-but-heartfelt moment, and bury it so deep it won't even surface in his dreams. After all, _what else does one do with something one doesn't understand and isn't ready to deal with?_

But one day, on the sunlit grounds of Hogwarts, after a long awaited and spectacular kiss shared by the two in front of their nearest, and dearest (and others), our hero and heroine will finally uproot this memory with laughter and great fondness. But that's a story that's already been told…


End file.
